


Fill another room in hell

by ExultedShores



Series: You may be loved to the point of madness [1]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Delilah ruins everything, Hurt No Comfort, Insanity, M/M, and Luca helps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 08:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12295770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExultedShores/pseuds/ExultedShores
Summary: Theodanis has never seen Aramis hurt so much as a bloodfly, and he is not fearful when he approaches him, wanting to calm him down, or at the very least button his shirt.He is sent sprawling.Theodanis Abele still lives in 1849, but Delilah's ritual takes place in Stilton Manor nevertheless.





	Fill another room in hell

Theodanis Abele has been a Duke for far too long.

He knows this well, especially when he bows himself over another stack of paperwork and feels his back creak alarmingly, when he stands to address the council and finds his feet aching, when he looks at his son who’s grown into an adult in what seems like the blink of an eye.

It’s because of his son that Theo still holds his office, despite his wish for retirement. Luca grew up, yes, but he hasn’t grown up well. He’s selfish, needlessly cruel, and altogether unpleasant. Imagining him as the Duke of Serkonos, leeching the life from the vibrant streets of Karnaca, is one of three things that keep Theodanis Abele awake at night.

The second is the look in the eyes of the messenger who had been given the monumental task of informing him and his wife that their youngest child was dead, struck down in the streets of Dunwall by a girl who’d driven one of the deer-shaped ornaments of his carriage into his eye as deep as it would go.

Then there’s Callas, whom he’d loved dearly despite having never fallen in love with her, lying broken and bloodied on the stones of the courtyard, eyes wide with fear and chest heaving with every gasped breath, whispering “I don’t want to die” over and over so many times he can still hear her when he’s surrounded by silence.

Now, there’s a fourth vision that will haunt his nightmares.

The sight of Aramis Stilton, his lover, his friend, his everything, jacket buttoned unevenly, face unshaven, pulling out his own hair while muttering endlessly to himself.

“I need to have the carpets cleaned,” he says to the air, waving his hands about, “the time has seeped into them. Maybe I can salvage them. The walls are ruined, though.”

“Aramis,” Theodanis says, tries to say, because he is shushed almost immediately.

“Quiet!” Aramis all but shouts at him, furiously, before he leans in close and puts his lips to Theo’s ear. “The one in the Void hears everything.”

And then he’s gone again, aimlessly pressing the keys of the piano to create a toneless melody. Aramis owns a plethora of musical instruments, but the piano is the only one he can properly play, though it took quite a few lessons. _“One day, I’ll play the piano for you, Theodanis,”_ he’d said once, when their courtship was still young. He did, some months later, and Theo has never wasted an opportunity to hear him play since. Watching Aramis guide his rough, calloused hands over the keys with a touch as light as a feather, his face tense with concentration, never failed to make him smile.

The song he plays now fills him with dread, instead.

He turns to Jaime, Aramis’ oldest friend, and sees his own despair and helplessness reflected in his eyes. “He’s been like this since last week, milord.”

‘Since last week’ means ‘since your son was here’, though Jaime is too polite to implicate Luca’s guilt. But Theodanis knows, should have known the moment his son came to him with the idea of hosting a small gathering at Aramis’ mansion. “I want to know him better,” Luca said, all smiles. “I know he’s… important to you.” And Theodanis, ever the hopeful fool, agreed in a heartbeat.

“Luca,” he murmurs, closing his eyes to keep tears from spilling. But he can still hear Aramis beating down on the piano, and it is the sudden swell of hatred he feels for his son that causes him to break down, because what kind of father could ever hate his own son?

He’s a failure. A failed Duke to Serkonos, a failed father to Luca and Radanis, a failed husband to Callas. A failed partner to Aramis.

Jaime wordlessly hands him a worn but clean handkerchief, and Theodanis accepts it gratefully. “Does he recognize anyone?” he asks when he’s managed to compose himself.

“No,” says Jaime, shaking his head, “but he’s mentioned your name, milord. I thought he might…”

But he doesn’t, obviously. “I’m sorry.”

Aramis jumps up and tears open his coat. “I think I heard something…” he exclaims. “Under my shirt.”

Jaime rushes forward to keep him from ripping his clothes, taking hold of his hands, and then Aramis looks down at their intertwined fingers with wonder. “Theo,” he says, in that soft voice he always reserved just for Theodanis, “warm the quilts, will you? I feel like it’s going to be cold tonight.”

He’s speaking as if they’re in their cabin at the lake, the one Theodanis had made specifically for them, to get away from prying eyes and overwhelming duties. It was the one place where the two of them could just _be_ , where they could wear tattered clothes, sleep in the same bed, look at one another with all the love they usually had to hide.

Watching Aramis look at another man that way, even if he believes it’s him, makes Theo’s heart ache.

“This can’t be right,” Aramis says suddenly, snatching his hands back from Jaime. “Who has been fooling with the clocks?! Was it you? I’ll have your pay docked!”

Jaime backs up as quickly as he can with his bum leg, and Theodanis is surprised to see true fear on the man’s face. “He’s… gotten violent, milord,” he responds to Theo’s unasked question. “Broke Manny’s nose just yesterday.”

Theodanis has never seen Aramis hurt so much as a bloodfly, and he is not fearful when he approaches him, wanting to calm him down, or at the very least button his shirt.

He is sent sprawling.

“You put bones on the ceiling!” Aramis wails, fists still raised. “They sing, terrible, terrible songs! Take them away!”

Theodanis picks himself up from the floor. “Alright,” he says carefully, his jaw aching. “Alright, Aramis, I’ll take away the bones.”

Aramis stares at him for several seconds before he lets his hands drop to his sides, nodding. “Good,” he says, sitting himself back down by the piano. “Good. Good.”

Theo goes to him, despite his better judgement, and takes hold of his hands like Jaime did before. “Aramis,” he calls, desperately, “Aramis, it’s me. It’s Theo. Please, answer me.”

He laughs, a high, cruel sound that doesn’t fit him. “Theo?” he asks, mockingly. “Theo is dead. Or he will be dead, soon. They’ll poison his drink and his son will be Duke.”

He’s squeezing Theo’s hands painfully hard, and then looks at him with such a broken expression it makes his throat close up. “They should have killed me, too.”

Theodanis can’t breathe. _They_. “Who?” he whispers. “Who did this to you?”

But he’s gone again, physically pushing Theo away and pacing circles around the piano. “There are whales down in the mines,” he says. “I hear them howling to one another. Swollen beasts.”

Jaime is crying.

“I’ll send for doctor Hypatia,” Theodanis says, as much to himself as to Jaime, though he knows, deep down, that it won’t matter. Even Alexandria can’t fix this. “Maybe she can help him.”

“Yes,” Jaime agrees, his voice containing about as much conviction as Theodanis feels. “Yes. Thank you, milord.”

He nods, tensely, and turns to leave. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Jaime looks surprised. “We’ll take care of him, milord. You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Theo says simply. He looks back at Aramis, who is swatting at bloodflies that aren’t there, and he feels his heart break all over again. “It’s the least I owe him.”

He doesn’t say anything more, but he can tell Jaime knows.

_Because I love him._

**Author's Note:**

> One of these days I'll write something happy for these two, but today is not that day.


End file.
